


there's no escape from death's embrace, though you lead it on a merry chase

by Jsscshvlr



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fury is not a good guy in this my apols, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Peter is a grim kinda who knows not me, Swearing, like at some point when he's not there to kill her probably
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:09:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28437405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jsscshvlr/pseuds/Jsscshvlr
Summary: “So what is this? You don’t want anything from me? Do you just want to kill me? Is that what’s happening here?”“What would I want with you? I don’t know you.” He’s perplexed - surely she knows she was due to die today. People usually have some kind of premonition.“I dunno what goes on in your mind - killing people seems to be okay, so -” she lets out a humourless laugh.“What? I don’t kill people. It’s my job.”---Michelle Jones is about to die, and Peter Parker is the one who's going to make sure it happens.Unless -
Relationships: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker
Comments: 48
Kudos: 50





	1. but don't forget, no one lives forever

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MichellesBoh (michellesbohh)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/michellesbohh/gifts).



> happy birthday my girl! when I asked for angst or fluff you screamed angst so loud I heard it all the over here in God save the Queen land. I adore you xxx

_ “Gwen - hey… I’m here okay. I caught you.” He sobs as he lifts her chest off the ground. She feels too heavy like she can’t hold any of her bones up herself. He can’t see through the thick tears falling out of his eyes.  _

_ “Gwen, please - just open your eyes. Your beautiful eyes, just - I’m… right here please.” He pleads as her head hangs towards the ground at an unforgiving angle.  _

_ “No… nononono - Gwen -” he buries his face in her chest, feeling bad for messing up her blouse. He should never have asked her out. He should have been stronger, faster, quicker - he should have left her alone.  _

* * *

He sees an unfamiliar fear in her eyes like she’s not expecting to see him. Like him chasing her up nine flights of stairs wasn’t a hilarious game for her. Huh. He’s had weirder requests for the ending of someone’s life. She backs herself into a wall - as if that’s going to save her - as if he couldn’t end it all with the slightest touch. He won’t. He’ll give her a choice of how it ends. If this whole looking nervous thing is part of her play, that’s fine too. 

“What do you want?” She rasps out as she looks around the rooftop. Ultimately he’s still confused. Sure, he’s helped hundreds of people over his lifetime - but they’ve all been fully aware he was coming - either she’s a fantastic actress or she didn’t know she was due to die today. Some of his other clients were more subdued than others, a lot of them even wanted to go in their sleep. 

“I’m here for you.” He says in question, eyebrows furrowed. He hasn’t really felt an emotion stronger than a stubbed toe in over a decade. He’ll talk to people about their life if they like, before they go - he can do the routine umming and ahhing at the right points. But nothing deeper than superficial, he hasn’t had a meaningful relationship in over a decade. Not since Gwen. He doesn’t deserve it. 

“Yeah - I got that.” She says exasperated and it almost makes him laugh - but he still can’t decide how she’s playing this. Why would she want to act scared? Oh, maybe it’s a kink? Who knows - definitely not him.

“Why?” She stands a little taller - she probably has a good inch on him. He watches as she notices this, clearly trying to figure out if she can make it out of here alive. As if. He’s never had a failure, he’s not even sure what would happen if he let her live. He’s not about to find out now - not with her. 

He walks closer to her, watching the panic rise from her toes to the tips of her ears. It makes him stumble slightly - he doesn’t want her to be scared. Is she still acting? Should he double-check with Fury that she’s his mark? He’s never messed up before - knows that Fury wouldn’t trick him into letting the wrong person go. 

“Please -” he watches as she licks her lips, something stirring deep down that he can’t attribute to anything “-what? Are you going to kill me?” She says as if that’s the last thing that crossed her mind. Why else would he have chased her up here? What else could he possibly want with her that he couldn’t do out in the street? 

“Yeah -” he says, confusion lacing his voice “ - preference?” He says looking down at his knuckles. He could just touch her really, doesn’t take much. He’s slightly out of his depth, and for the first time in years wishes he had a mask to conceal the undercurrent of nervousness he has about ending someone’s life when they clearly aren’t prepared for it.

“Well, to not die would be preferable.” When he looks back up at her she has her arms crossed, brows furrowed in a way that makes her look like a chipmunk. Huh, she’s very pretty. But he’s been sent here to kill her, it’s her time - just because she’s unaware of that doesn’t make it untrue. Sure she looks a little younger than the people he usually has to kill but he’s not here to make judgements. 

“I haven’t  _ done  _ anything yet. I - fuck -” he stops walking towards her, the light bounced off of her hair in a way he hasn’t seen in a while and he wants to tell her it will be okay “- I haven’t opened the homeless shelter yet. I haven’t fallen in love yet. I haven’t even managed to get over the death of my fucking Dad, yet. I’m supposed to have more time than this.” 

He watches as she runs her hands through her hair - catching the tremble of her fingers. He wonders what she does with them. Is she a painter? Does she work at a bank? He thinks that she doesn’t look like a banker. He could ask - if he’d had a conversation with anyone outside of his job in years. 

“What do you want?” she screams out. He jolts back slightly. He’s always had a kinda extra sense he can’t attribute to anything - no one is ever able to catch him out or surprise him. He assumes it’s a grim thing. But it’s not working with her. She feels safe and he’s not sure why or how. 

“Can you calm down?” he pleads to her while checking his watch - he’s supposed to call Fury after this, another thing he’s not used to. He never usually has to check-in after letting someone go. Hasn’t had to in years.

“Oh, I’m sorry!-” she says with what he notices from TV is a false apology and he’s half shocked at her aggression, as just as it is, and a half finding her scowl adorable “-what is my life not quite worth the fact that you might miss the first fifteen minutes of Jeopardy?”

“I don’t have it DVR’d.” He stutters out because he loves Jeopardy, but obviously, her life is worth something. It’s worth everything. But it’s her time. He watches as her eyes widen when his not joke lands and she huffs out a breath. 

“You’re an asshole.” He’s taken aback but barks out a laugh, something he notes he hasn’t done in months - if not years. She doesn’t look amused and he can feel himself blush at his mishap.

He’s about to just lunge forward and touch her face because he’s scared and she’s scared and it’s easier to just get it over with but her phone goes off and the tune dredges up a memory he can’t place. 

“What is that?” He asks when she doesn’t reach to answer her phone. 

“What?” She snaps at him and he has to understand that she’s under a lot of pressure, but still it takes him by surprise. 

“That tune coming from your phone you’re not answering.” She reaches for her phone with a shaky hand and turns the song off. Turns out it was an alarm and not a call from a relative that could have easily screwed up his mission. He wonders for a second if she’s lonely and then shakes the thought out of his head. She wouldn’t be, not someone like her.

“So what is this? You don’t  _ want  _ anything from me? Do you just want to kill me? Is that what’s happening here?”

“What would I want with you? I don’t know you.” He’s perplexed -  _ surely  _ she knows she was due to die today. People usually have some kind of premonition. 

“I dunno what goes on in your mind - killing people seems to be okay, so -” she lets out a humourless laugh. 

“What? I don’t  _ kill  _ people. It’s my job.” He’s not sure why he’s explaining himself to her. 

“Hitman? I - what - why would anyone put a hit out on me? I haven’t  _ done  _ anything.” She starts pacing back and forth in the small amount of space he’s left for her. He offhandedly notices she has nice legs.

“What - no not a hitman, gross. I’m Grim - you know, the company and stuff.”

“Dude, tell me you did not chase me up nine fucking flights of stairs to wind me up!” She shouts at him. 

He places his hand palm up in front of him and watches her eyes widen in fear as the red smoke leaves his fingertips. She sucks in a ragged breath and backs herself further into the wall. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Saved by the bell. Of course! Huh - I loved that show.” He says loudly with a snap of his fingers as he gets excited that he figured it out. 

“What?” She says quietly as he watches her wipe a tear from under her eye abruptly like she doesn’t want him to see she’s sad. It hits him square in the chest - she’s terrified and he’s not sure he can do this. There’s a lump in his throat the size of Texas and he wishes he’d just touched her leg when chasing after her. He feels guilty about that too. 

“Your alarm - “He chokes out looking anywhere but at her devastatingly beautiful face. 

“Oh - yeah. My favourite when I was younger.” She replies with a shake of her head like she’s unsure why she’s telling him. All he can think about is how badly he wants to know more. 

“Did you not, like, I dunno, know you were going to die today?” He asks, wringing his hands together.

“Well, I didn’t get a letter in the post so I must have missed it.” 

“Obviously it doesn’t come in the post.” 

“Yes, thank you Dr Clues.”

“It’s Peter, actually.”

She doesn’t answer him, doesn’t make any show that she’s paying attention to him at all and he misses the way her eyebrows furrowed when she was trying to understand what on earth was going on. 

“What’s your name?” He asks quietly in hopes that she’ll talk to him some more. Maybe he can figure out why she’s so confused. 

“Fuck off.” She snarls at him. “You can’t chase me up to a random roof, threaten to kill me and then ask me questions. Surely you know who I fucking am - someone sent you here, didn’t they?” She snaps out and all he can think while he’s the subject of her hatred is that it’s fair - and this situation is completely unfair and despite doing this for ten years, he’s unprepared. 

Can he let her go because he feels guilty? Will that mess up some whole system bigger than him that he doesn’t understand? Can he let her go because she’s beautiful? Probably not. 

“I’m not ready for this.” She whispers with her head down. 

“Sorry - I don’t understand why? It’s never happened before.” He replies even though she wasn’t talking to him.

“How did you hear me?” She questions, confused. 

“Oh, well I kinda have really good hearing?” He answers and watches as she looks somewhat interested, and her eyebrows loosen and he thinks that’s very cute so decided to list all of his weird qualities is something that will help, “Erm, and I’m super fast, and sometimes I can sense when something’s going to happen, like a super sense or something? I don’t know, doesn’t seem to work on you.” 

“Right.”

“It makes this job a little easier I guess.” He says with slight desperation. He really wants her to understand what’s going on. He’s not here to kill her for no reason.

“Oh yeah for sure - anything to make it quicker right? You’ve got places to be after all.” She spits out and she’s livid. She’s beautiful when she’s mad and he selfishly wishes he could see what she’s like when she’s happy. But he can’t - her time is up. 

“It’s not like that - I’m not just... there’s a whole system.” He pleads with her. 

“And things are never wrong?” She shouts at him, continuing before he has a chance to respond, “What would even happen if they were?” He wrings his hands as he contemplates her question. It’s true he’s never been asked this before but he has thought about it. But SHIELD doesn't make mistakes. It’s a secret organisation so he can’t tell her that - as much as he wants too. 

“They can’t be - there are too many logistics and -” he can feel himself growing frantic, “- so many people die every day. They can’t be wrong.”

“Well you can’t kill them all, so why are you doing it for some people? If they need  _ help  _ to go maybe it’s not their time yet.” She says softly but with an air of caution. 

“Well -”

“I know the government is into some dodgy shit but I was only ever 67% sure that they used their whole ‘GRIM’ operation as a cover to kill innocent people.” 

“No - that’s not… what?” He chokes out - with what he thinks are the beginnings of a panic attack but it’s been so long since he felt anything he’s not sure. He feels himself fall to his knees, his senses in overdrive. He can’t feel anything over the pulsing in ears and the thrumming behind his eyes. 

“It’s your fault.” He hears Fury snarl. “You killed her - would she have been there if it weren’t for you?” No. It was an accident. “Peter,” he responds sternly, voice detached from emotion, “you deserve this.”

“Peter -” who’s that? Is Fury back again to ask him to join them? If he says yes will he be able to leave this cell? 

“ _ Peter _ -” it doesn’t sound like Fury - maybe he’s sent someone else again. The only thing he can think about over the nausea is that at least it’s not Gwen. He’d recognise her voice anywhere. He can’t fathom watching her body fall on repeat. They haven’t made him watch this for years - as if it’s ever really left his mind.

A hand lands on his shoulder and he flinches back violently.  _ No _ . He remembers it’s easier if he stays still - if he gives them what they want.

“Okay. No touching. Can you hear me?” He nods. 

“Okay - that’s good. You’re having a panic attack, and I need you to take a deep breathe in with me.” He shakes his head. 

“You can. Just once in, okay?” Who is that? They’ve never been here before. He likes the sound of their voice. He takes a shaky breath in and holds it - he wasn’t told he could let it go. 

“And out.” He complies. 

“Good. That’s good - can you do it again for me?” He nods. The present comes back slowly. He remembers he’s on a mission. He’s here for her. Is she still here? Why’s he on the ground? He hopes she hasn’t gone. 

“That’s good - don’t rush opening your eyes if you still feel faint.” The voice says, and it’s her. It’s softer than anything she’s directed at him in the last half hour and he’s not sure it’s deserved. She could have run, maybe she should have. But when he flickers his eyes open she’s right in front of him. Concern swimming in her eyes - hand out to stabilise him without touching him.

“Are you back?” 

“Yeah - sorry.” He says wiping the remnants of tears he doesn’t remember crying, away. She shrugs like it’s not a big deal she helped him. Like she hasn’t made sure he’s okay despite him chasing her up nine flights of stairs. 

“I didn’t mean to scare you - it’s… I can check with Fury whether -”

“Fury? Like SHIELD director, Fury?” She says with eyes as wide as his. Fuck. Why can he not control himself around her? It’s like he can’t deny her anything. She seems to take his silence as confirmation - which is fair, it is. 

“You’re working with SHIELD? Is the whole GRIM operation under them? That’s some shady shit.” 

“How -”

“I do research.” She says with no room to discuss. 

“On SHIELD?” He says genuinely curious - he works for them but nothing they do that the public  _ should  _ know about is particularly interesting to him. She nods her head, crossing her legs to sit down properly in front of him.

“How come?”

“Er -” she looks like she’s trying to decide whether or not to tell him the truth but he watches her settle for something else, “I think they have Spider-Man working for them.” She’s not messing with him. She’s also not at all wrong. He has a feeling she rarely is. 

“Do you know them?” She asks with a glint in her eye. He shakes his head rapidly, a shame rising in him that he’s lying to her. 

“Hmm. Long shot I guess.”

“Why -” he clears his throat and attempts to maintain an air of calmness, “- why would you care if he was working with them anyway?” 

“They saved me when I was younger.” What?! “And they were always helping the little guy, you know? Sure they helped the Police with high-risk cases - but they were always on the ground as well. Like a true New Yorker, I guess. I dunno. And then there was an accident and they disappeared. And there were all these theories on where they went.” She says picking at the thread on her jumper. 

“And I dunno. I always had the thought that they were my age and I can’t imagine doing any of that at my age or any age really. Putting your life on the line because you can? Because it’s the right thing to do? It’s insane. And then they disappear.” She looks straight at him like she knows. 

“And sure - maybe they just decided to hell with it - and are living a calm and comfortable life but I just don’t think so. What do you think?” She asks but he can barely breathe. Can barely look at her with the fear that he’s going to tell her everything - anything she wants to know the answer too. 

“I think - erm - he’s fine.” He responds weakly and she hums at him. 

“What’s your name?”

“What is this, 21 questions?” She snaps but ultimately says, “Michelle. But you know that already.” She looks at him with confusion and he drops his gaze to the ground. “What’s your worst kill?” His throat grows dry and he’s not sure if it’s with the thought of Gwen on his mind - or the idea that it might be this one. The one he hasn’t got the courage to go through with. 

“Erm, that’s a hard question.”

“Okay. How old are you?”

“27. What’s your job?” 

“I’m a lawyer. Where did you grow up?”

“Queens. How did your Dad die?” She takes a sharp breath and he regrets the question as soon as it leaves his mouth. He doesn’t deserve to know the details of her life - no matter how badly he wants to. 

“In his sleep.” 

“Sorry.”

“Do you have any party tricks?” She asks quickly, but he can hear the shock still lacing her voice - it distracts him enough to let slip.

Yes - he wants to tell her everything. “No.”

“Okay.” 

“Are they hurting you?” She questions with a soft tone that makes his neck snap up. Hurting him? Why would they be hurting him? They saved him. 

“What? No. I mean -” He stutters out in a way that offers no real reason for her to believe him. 

“How did they do it?” She asks undeterred from his denial. “Money? I guess people do the worst things for money - even killing people.” 

“I’m not killing people, Michelle.” His thoughts wander back to Fury’s explanation of the job. How it’s painless, how they’re helping people, how it’s the right thing to do. 

“Then what are you planning on doing here?” She says standing up with a flail of her arms. “I’m not ready to die, I don’t want to die - so if I do, and it’s your fault, how does that not make you a killer?” She asks, not completely unkindly. And truly he doesn’t have an answer. It’s always been his job - it’s people’s time to go. Whatever that means. 

“It’s not - it’s -” He can barely get his words out around the lump in his throat.

“I’m telling you - you got the wrong person and there’s no way for me to prove that to you. It’s a fucked up flawed system, I’ve always thought so -” she says running a hand through her hair “- Fury is a shady piece of shit. Ever since my Dad-”

“Your Dad?” 

He doesn’t have enough time to ponder because his phone starts ringing, and his chest feels like it’s slowly being filled with lead. He can’t discern whether it’s due to needing to finish the job or the fact that he knows within his heart he’s going to lie to Fury and say she’s dead. And then he’s going to let her go. 

“Did you trust Spider-Man?” He asks her as he gets his phone out. Knowing that as much as he wants her to trust him, she can’t. He hasn’t given her any reason too. But she might trust the guy he despises and he  _ needs  _ her to trust at least part of him right now. 

“Yeah -” she says clearly unsure of his intentions. 

“Just, please - trust me on this.” He shows her he’s answering his phone but she doesn't look like she trusts him anymore. 

“Hello?” He says as he turns the speaker on so she can hear. 

“Is it done?” He hears Fury speak, angry because he hadn’t called yet. He watches as her eyes grow fearful again and it’s confusing how badly he never wants her to be fearful of him. 

“Not - not yet.” He winces as Fury starts to shout over him. 

“Why the fuck not?”

“Well, she seemed confused as to why she was dying and I was trying to explain -”

“That’s not your job. Do it or I’ll send someone else.” 

“Right. If you could just tell me why it’s her time?” He pleads. Waiting quietly as Fury thinks about it. 

“She killed someone important.” Fury says slowly, and he watches as Michelle’s eyes widen in shock and she goes to protest her innocence. He barrels forwards to cover her mouth with his hand before she can start. He’s only known her thirty minutes and he knows she would never.

“Please, please.” He whispers into her ear. She seems to understand and settles back against the wall. Tears swimming in her eyes. He moves his hand from her mouth slowly to swipe his thumb across her cheek. 

“Finish the job or I’ll send someone else.” 

“Yeah, yes - of course.” He chokes out with his hand still on her cheek. 

“I’ll call back in ten. If I have to send someone else, you go too” He says angrily and hangs up. 

“Peter.” She starts with a watery voice, her hand coming up to grip his. “I didn’t -  _ fuck  _ \- I don’t.”

“I know.” He says because he does. He trusts her. He doesn’t know why truly has no reason to but he does. “I know you didn’t kill someone - it’s just…why am I here then? What does this mean?” He says pulling away from her and immediately wishing her didn’t. He paces back and forth across the roof questioning everything. 

If Fury is wrong, has he been wrong before? Is she lying? What the fuck is he doing? Has he been killing innocent people all this time? Why did they contact him specifically? He stops moving, standing stark still on the roof as he remembers Michelle’s questions about Spider-Man. Maybe she’d know more than him. Maybe there’s a reason they were supposed to meet? 

“Michelle -” he spins around to face her, but the roof is empty. 

She’s gone. 


	2. baby don't fear the reaper

“Shit, shit - Michelle?” He shouts, for who he’s not sure. He runs to open the roof door and can’t hear her running down the stairs so he bolts over to see if he can see her from the side of the building. He sees her run across the road - and God, can she look twice?! He could web down - hasn’t taken his web-shooters off for longer than a shower since Gwen. He hasn’t used them since Gwen either. He could walk down the wall to warn her but the thought of placing his hands over the side makes him nauseous. 

His phone rings as she turns a corner and he’d forgotten that Fury was calling again. He could ignore him and hope they don’t track him down before he’s warned her, or he could lie - hopefully, better than he attempted last time.

“Fury, sir. Hello. Good evening, how are -”

“Parker.” Not in the mood for necessities, noted.

“Yes?” He says a little shakier than he intended. 

“Is she dead?”

“Yes.” A lot shakier than he intended.

“Good. Come back to base -” he hears Fury pocket his phone, but the dial tone doesn’t come, “- go get her.” He hangs up himself while walking in circles about how he’s fucked this up. Sure she’s not dead, but she’s going to be and he let her go. She’s got no warning. He bolts down the stairs desperately trying to pull her file up on his phone before Fury realises he was still on the call and deletes it. 

Running through the flat entranceway, he trips into people on the sidewalk - forgetting to note if he apologises. But by the number of people calling him a ‘twat’, he assumes he hadn’t done enough. He tries tracking her sound but he’s not used to using his senses for anything other than moving out of people’s way, so that falls flat.

The address on his phone has to be enough - she has to be there. So he runs. 

He runs past streams of people who don’t stop to ask him what he’s running for if he’s okay. He’s running so fast his legs might give way if he lands on another dodgy section of New York sidewalk. 

Getting into her apartment building isn’t as difficult as it should be and he takes the steps three at a time. So he’s a little winded when he reaches her apartment - Spider-Man or not. He knocks on the door but can’t hear any stirring inside. Did he beat her home? Did she even come home? Trying the lock he’s glad to see it’s properly protected - he barges through anyway. 

So he’ll just be here when she turns up - that’s not creepy. Right?

It’s creepy. Shit. He hears her panting halfway up the stairs and he spends half the time it takes her to reach the door thinking it sounds cute and half the time trying to decide how to get her not to freak out. 

It does not work. She screams and he has to run over to cover her mouth again. He has to step back slightly because she tries kicking him and he doesn’t want to restrain her by placing his entire body against her.

“Michelle, please - just calm down.” He pleads and her eyes turn furious. He can hear her saying calm down in an angry tone from behind his hand. 

“I didn’t kill you and Fury is sending someone else for you and I need you to get out of here. Michelle, please. Just listen to me. I’ll tell you anything you want to know about the project, anything. I’ll tell you anything you want to know about me. Just, please, please.” He says taking his hand from her mouth slowly. She looks unfairly beautiful when she’s glaring at him. He steps back and she darts to the other side of her apartment. 

“So what you’ve been sitting here just waiting for me? Have you been through all my stuff like a sicko?” She says running a hand through her hair. 

“What? No, I only just got here.” 

“Did you go through my underwear like a perv?”

“Michelle.” He says admonished and he thinks blushing at the thought.

“Why are you here? I got away that’s like - the whole fucking point right? You said you didn’t think I was due to die so can’t you just let me go?”

“No - they know now.”

“What?”

“They’re on their way and I need -  _ fuck  _ \- I need to get you away.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you. No.”

“Michelle -” He says pleading. 

“No.  _ No _ , go away. Get away from me.  _ What  _ \- I’m not leaving with you.”

“Please, you have to, they’re going to kill you.”

“Well so were you.” 

“M, please. I can take you to my Aunt and she’ll - she’ll be able to help you and I’ll leave I won’t - Michelle,  _ please _ .” He hasn’t spoken to May in years but he knows where she lives, always keeping one eye on if she’s okay. She’ll be shocked to see him - she’ll probably break down and the thought of how much pain he’s brought her almost brings him to his knees. She’d be safe if she didn’t know where he was. Knowing he was alive had to be enough. 

“Please, I need you to trust me.” He says knowing she can’t.

“Fuck off, dude. Sure, try to kill me, find out where I fucking live - break-in but sure, the puppy dog eyes make me wanna pack a bag and leave with you so the people you  _ work  _ with, won’t kill me? As if you’re not just making it easier for them to find me.” She’s making some perfectly valid points and there’s hysteria to her voice he can’t figure out how to control. 

“I’m not going with you. I’m not. You can’t -” she takes a deep breath and he can tell it’s only going to get worse, “- you can’t make me so just -” she backs herself into the wall and her eyes are frantic “ - just.”

“Michelle you need to breathe.” He says trying not to crowd her.

“You fucking breathe -” she gasps out and if he weren’t so petrified he’d find it funny.

“Can you take a deep breath in with me?” She shakes her head. Her gasps are becoming shallower and he can hear the air barely reaching her lungs. Sure if she passed out it would be easier to get her out the house but he’s trying to build trust not break it. Her hand comes to grasp her neck and she looks terrified and he has no idea how to deal with panic attacks so he does the only thing he can think of. 

He kisses her forehead. 

It semi-works. So he does it again, just a quick peck - repeated until her breathing has calmed down and she’s looking at him like she’s equal parts grateful and like she might kill him. 

“And - you kissed me?”

“Okay, yes. I’m so sorry, I know - this -” he says flailing his arms around “ isn’t ideal - it’s the only way I know how to calm someone down. Gwen used to do it for me.”

“Gwen?” 

“She was - she’s my - she’s dead.” 

“Sorry.” She says without an ounce of sincerity. It’s fine. 

“Look. I know this is not ideal. And I know you can’t trust me. So you don’t have to go with me if you don’t want - but you have to leave.  _ Please _ .”

“Peter -”

“Michelle.” He says louder than he anticipated, she doesn’t seem anything other than mad at it, “I couldn’t save - I can save you. Please let me.” He watches her play the options around in her head and she looks displeased at all of them.

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.” She says walking around her apartment kicking the floor. “Can you believe I have to go on the run with a whacko and I don’t even have anyone to text about it? No one is even going to care that I’m gone.”

“Mich-”

“What do I need to take?” She says grabbing a duffle bag from under her bed. 

“Clothes, anything sentimental, cash if you have any. Toothbrush and if you happen to have hair dye let's grab that too.” He lists off quickly.

“Not your first rodeo?” She says and he thinks she’s somewhat impressed but he wouldn't bet on it. He shrugs at her while she pulls out some soft looking clothing and shoves them in a bag. He tries not to watch her pack - it seems invasive - as if he didn’t kick her door down earlier but still. 

“So how long have you been working with SHIELD?” She asks nonchalantly. 

“They recruited me when I was eighteen.”

“And you’ve been in this GRIM thing since then?” She says packing a book and he wants to tell her necessities only but he’s dragging her away from everything she knows so he stops. 

“Yeah.”

“Hmmm. Did you know Fury wasn’t the number one choice to take over from Williams last year?” She says like  _ she  _ knows that. 

“Er - no. I think he’s pretty well-liked. He recruited me so I know he’s worked there for ages.” He says and he’s lying because he’s never particularly liked him. He stills gets flashbacks to sitting in a dark cold cell for days on end until someone would come as ask him questions and then shove him back in.

“He worked for SHIELD for ages - he only just got appointed to GRIM though.” She says shoving more clothes in her bag. How is she fitting that much stuff in there?

“How do you know all this?” He asks. He’s pretty sure all SHIELD internal goings-on are classified. 

“Research. Will you answer my questions truthfully?” She asks and he’s only ever so slightly put out because he has been honest with her the entire time. But he nods anyway. 

“Do you really not know Spider-Man?” Fuck. 

“I do - I do know him.” He watches as she lets go of a breath - like she was expecting him to lie. Maybe this will help their escape mission because the only way he knows to leave requires a lot of trust on her part and gymnastics on his part. 

“I am him.” And her eyes bug out slightly but then she schools her face and he thinks she doesn’t really care about this revelation given her current situation. But then, 

“Oh my, God. He hasn’t been seen in years. What?” He can hear her growing frantic but the shame of being reminded of his greatest failure has his eyes pinned to the wooden floor in her apartment.

“Wait can you shoot lasers out of your fingers?” She says quickly, moving her eyes to try and see his hands. 

“Do you have an AI?  _ Are  _ you an AI?” She says with an excitement undercutting her nerves. Her eyes light up and he can barely form a thought that doesn’t centre on how pretty she is.

“What? No, I’m not an AI. I don’t even really have the powers anymore.”

“I have so many more questions.”

“I’ll answer them when we get out okay? We really need to go.”

“Right, I’m packed so.”

“Right. Yeah. I have erm - tiny issue. I have a tracker in my neck.” He says as though everyone has one of those and it’s not bizarre a governmental organisation knows his whereabouts every second of the day, He walks slowly over to her kitchenette and pulls a knife from the block. The smallest one he can find and he prays it’s sharp.

“I need you to take it out.” He says calmly. 

“What?” She shouts at him. “No, no what the fuck, Peter.”

“Michelle, it’s just a tiny thing okay - just below the skin -”

“No, absolutely not.”

“It’s barely a nick, Michelle - I can’t reach it from this angle.” He says pitifully close to a whine. 

“You’re asking me, someone, who you just tried to kill, to hold a knife near your throat?” She asks with her eyebrow raised. 

“Yes.” 

“And you don’t see an issue with that?”

“I see the issue -” he says exasperatedly, “- but Michelle, I need to get you away from here and they’ll find us if I have this in my neck so please, please just take it out.”

“It’ll hurt you.” She says quietly and his eyebrows shoot up.

“It won’t, I promise it will be fine.”

“Peter -”

“Trust me, please.” He says softly, handing the knife over to her which she accepts with a shaky hand. 

He moves over to stand under the light and Michelle follows him. Feeling for the tracker under his skin, he holds his pointer finger near where she needs to cut. It’s closer to his carotid artery than he would like, but he can’t tell her that. 

“Okay, I’ve found it - so you just need to cut down like a little bit -”

“A little bit? What’s a little bit? Like a millimetre? An inch?”

“Not an inch. Just, I’ll tell you when to stop.” She looks at him like a deer in the headlights. 

“You’ll just tell me?! Are you insane?” She shouts wildly, throwing her arms around. 

“M - can you be careful with that. Don’t hurt yourself please.” 

“Peter - “ she says softly, “- I can’t stab you in the neck until you tell me to stop.” 

“You haven’t got a choice. You won’t make it without me and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry - I didn’t - I don’t know why you’ve been targeted okay? I don’t. But I need you to be safe. I promise I’ll be fine.”

“Ugh, don’t die on me, okay?”

“Promise.” His eyes don’t leave hers until she’s so close to him he’s a little overwhelmed at her proximity and doesn’t know where to settle his eyes. 

“Show me.” She whispers. 

He points and she marks it with a soft pen that he didn’t see her pick up. When his hand falls from his neck it lands on her waist - to tether himself to the ground - sure he’s Spider-Man but he’s scared. If he dies on her, she dies. He can feel her hands shaking slightly. 

“Michelle.” He says quietly and she looks at him with the fullest brown eyes he’s ever seen. 

“Yeah?” 

“It’s going to be okay - just take a deep breath.” She does and when she breathes in, her chest rocks against his and his grip on her tightens. He feels a light stabbing sensation on his neck and does his best to breathe through it. 

“Little lower.” She drags the knife slightly lower and he feels it knock against the tracker. He remembers a little too late that any disturbance will send a shock to the host. He grunts out and tenses his fist, which he bunched into her sweater so she’s pulled flush to his body.

“Peter!” She shouts as she pulls the knife from the shallow cut and throws it on her bed. His entire neck is tensed and then it subsides. 

“Are you okay?” She asks with her hands on his neck - one covering the cut, one just, there. 

“Yeah, sorry. I forgot. Can you get it out?”

“With what?” She replies a little hysterically. 

“Just dig in with your fingers and pull it out.” He says tensely. 

“Fuck off. You are not serious? Peter, come on.” She says with a whine and a slight stomp of her foot which he finds dangerously adorable.

“Please, it’ll shock me again and I really don’t want that.” He smooths his hand against the back of her ribcage to ground himself. She places her fingers near his neck and he tells himself not to move. 

“Sorry - I’m sorry.” She says quietly with her fingers in his neck, but her other hand lightly strokes her thumb against the other side of his neck. 

“I’m just gonna pull it, okay?”

“I trust you.”

She pulls it out and he successfully doesn’t crush her ribs but he does clench his jaw so hard he thinks his teeth might crack. 

“Okay, don’t move.” She says as she leans towards a shelf and pulls gauze and a bandage of the side - his hands don’t drop from her sides. 

“You have all that?” 

“You asked me to stab you in the neck, I came prepared.”

The tracker blinks red rapidly and sends out a loud beep before turning off.

“Fuck. Fuck. They’re on their way.” He says as she places the bandage on his neck. “Get your bag. And a coat, it’s cold.” She does both and tosses him a large hoodie and he raises his eyebrows in question. 

“It’s cold. Put it on.” She says looking anywhere but at him. “Door?”

“I can walk down the wall I just - I haven’t done it in years Michelle and I can’t risk it - not with you - I can’t.” He stutters out and then whips his head around when he hears the door on the ground floor hit the wall with force - and at least three sets of heavy boots. It’s unnecessary to send a firing squad for one target - but he guesses they’re here for him too. 

“You can walk down a wall?” She asks casually, “Spider-Man says what?”

“What?” He replies in confusion. She laughs at him and it’s a glorious sound. But he remembers the impending doom and shoves that to the back of his mind.

“They’re here.” 

“Peter, look, you came here for a reason right,” She says and he can hear the fear in her words, but when he looks up at her it’s worse. “Please, I need you to get me out. It’s just - we’ll try the wall okay? If it doesn’t work - well then at least we go out our own way - okay?”

“Michelle -”

“It’s just a leap of faith.” She says gripping his hand tight. And she’s right, he thinks she might always be. But right now she’s putting her very limited trust in him - and he needs to keep her safe. 

The footsteps are getting closer, and his breathing is becoming ragged. He closes his eyes in an attempt to settle his senses but he can’t remember how. Can’t remember how to track anything other than her heartbeat. 

His eyes flicker open as he feels her lips on his forehead. Her hand squeezes his. He nods at her and she jumps into his arms, hers holding onto his shoulders with her face buried into his neck. He walks to her window and turns to look at the apartment he’s making her leave. All the little aspects of her life she’s never going to see again. 

Taking a deep breath he places his hand onto the wall of the building, spreading his fingers until he can feel tiny dirt particles on each bit of skin - she shifts against his body as he moves to perch on the windowsill but doesn’t make any sounds.

His foot makes contact with the wall and before he can overthink it he leans all his weight onto it while letting his other limbs dangle. Slowly he starts the ascend to the roof - they’re only two stories from the top. It takes less concentration than he was thinking it would to get here - he can still feel Michelle’s heartbeat, the warm puffs of air on his neck, her forearms tensing every step.

He reaches the roof and when his feet are on stable ground, he throws his fist in the air. 

“Good job, dork.” She jumps off him to look over the side of the building. 

He barely has time to smile at her before he hears footsteps coming towards the roof door. Of course. Of course, they weren’t safe just because he put twelve metres between them and her apartment. He hears them scream that he’d removed his tracker. 

He panics about how to get her off - he could walk down again but they could have guns. The only solution he can think of is swinging - and the thought makes him panic. But then she turns around from staring at the skyline, and she’s beautiful and she trusts him to keep her safe. 

“Michelle. We need to go.”

“How -” her eyes widen as there’s a banging on the roof door. 

“I’ve asked for a lot but can you extend your trust for a little while longer?” He says close to the door in case they get through - he can fight them while she goes down the fire escape. He checks his web-shooters against the ground and watches as she figures out what they’re about to do. She nods at him.

“Okay.” As the door cracks for the first time, he runs at her and she opens her arms for him, jumping onto his body the second he’s close. When her legs are around his waist he pauses for a second on the edge of the building, one arm up, one around her. He looks to her for confirmation and she says, “Just a leap of faith.”

And he jumps. 


	3. we've only got so many tricks

Peter doesn’t remember swinging ever being this fun - and yes, he’s aware that given context it should in no way be enjoyable. But Michelle is safe, she’s got her limbs entirely wrapped around his body, her face buried into his neck and her lips touch his skin whenever she takes a deep breath. 

“I’ve got you.” He says uselessly because the wind is so loud there’s no way she can hear him. He has one around her waist at all times, even if that meant they had to free fall for a second so he could switch which arm he was swinging with. He did not smile into her hair as she screamed against him. 

He swings them a good twenty minutes away and then hops from building to building for a while to attempt to lose whoever is tracking him. He lowers them into a nearby alley near a bus station when he sees their faces on the news. 

“We need to switch outfits and then get out of here.” He says when his feet touch the floor but Michelle makes no move to remove herself from him.

“You can let go now.” He states while moving his hands up and down her back. She leaps off him and schools her face into something unreadable. 

“Right, okay.” She drops her bag on a thankfully dry piece of ground and pulls her jacket off. She goes to pull her top off as well and Peter can hardly breathe. He’s trying not to stare, honestly, he is. There’s just so much skin - he can see the muscles in her shoulders moving and have collarbones always been that attractive? 

“Peter, we need to change.” She says, topless and bending down to unzip her bag and he does what she says, taking his hoodie and T-shirt off at the same time. 

“What’s that?” Michelle asks, pointing to the locket hanging from his neck. It’s been empty for years. He never had a photo of Gwen and he couldn’t bring himself to put one of May in incase someone kidnapped him again - not that SHIELD wouldn’t be able to figure it out anyway.

He goes to answer her but stops when he hears the slapping of feet on the ground. He curses the fact that he spent precious seconds in awe at Michelle topless that he should have spent putting clothes on - although she is still sans top as well. 

“M- someone is coming.” He says, pulling her lightly behind him. 

“What?!” She whispers and places her hands on his waist. It distracts him momentarily and he really needs to get a handle on being around her if he's going to save her life. 

“I think - they’re just a randomer but our faces are everywhere so hide.” He said breathlessly, arm bent behind his back to hold her behind him. 

“Peter, there’s nothing -” she starts and she sounds panicked and if he could just  _ think _ around her he might have realised his next plan wasn’t his best idea ever. But he can’t so he spins around, cups her face and kisses her just as the person comes around the corner.

She’s shocked for a second and he’s nervous she’s going to hit him (rightfully and he will let her when the person has left) but then she tilts her head slightly and he truly couldn’t care what happens now. The feeling of her lips on his is one of the best feelings he's ever felt. He wants to give her anything she wants - although what she probably wants is for him to ask to kiss her or never touch her again.

Her hands slide up from where they landed his chest and rest at the base of his neck. She presses her lips to his again when he pulls back and he moves his hands to her back to hold her closer to him and the feel of her skin against his sets his ablaze. Michelle lets out a breahty moan and he decides for the millionth time that he’d do anything to keep her alive. He’d chop his own heart out if it kept her safe. He doesn't have the time or the brainpower to figure out why that is.

And then the footsteps sound further and further away and he knows he needs to pull back. He lets his lips linger for a second before, 

“They’re gone,” Peter whispers, millimetres from her face. 

He’s in a trance, she’s so close and she’s so beautiful. Even in the dark dingy alleyway, she’s the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. His gaze dips to her lips again and he goes to move them back towards the wall and he can feel her eyes darting across his face.

"What are you doing?" She asks, rightfully confused because what the fuck is he doing. Luckily for him, although in hindsight possibly not that lucky, there’s an announcement on a nearby TV screen.

_ Breaking news: Amber alert.  _

They both look towards the screen that showcases both of their faces as criminals on the run and he curses himself for being so selfish.

“Fuck. Fuck, get changed.” She says lightly pushing him away as she bends to grab clothes from the bag. She hands him some sweats and a different hoody.

“Did you bring these for me?”

“Don’t be weird about it.” She says pulling the shirt over her body and unbuttoning her jeans. He swallows and turns around to do the same. 

As he’s standing in the alleyway in his boxers he can’t help but feel confused. Just pure confusion coursing through his veins and he wants to put it down to the uncertainty of what they’re trying to do. How he’s running from an organisation that has known his whereabouts every second of every day for the last decade. 

He pulls the sweats on and tries to stop and think for a second, he’s about to take Michelle to his Aunt. To the only living family, he has left. Who he had to leave in a last-ditch effort to keep her safe. And he’s about to take Michelle straight to her. So he  _ has  _ to think, what if he's wrong about her? What if he's been blinded by the warmth in her eyes and the conviction in her words? What if she’s not innocent? 

Her talking brings him out of his own head, “Ready, nerd?” He chokes down his questions and nods his head, quickly slipping his shoes back on and throwing the hoodie over his chest, fingers brushing the locket. If she notices his shifting mood she doesn’t mention it. 

Peter’s not sure of anything right now, he’s not sure how he’s supposed to figure out if she’s lying or telling the truth. He’s not sure what he’s supposed to do either way. He assumes she must know something about SHIELD because Fury sent someone for her even after Peter had said he’d killed her. But then again he’s never missed before, he’s never had this issue before and he doesn’t know how to deal with it.

“Hey.” She says with a hand to his shoulder that he jumps away from. “Sorry. Er, should we go?”

When he turns around she’s right there - and she’s trusting him, maybe not willingly but she is - to keep her safe. And as he searches her eyes he can’t see anything other than the truth and mild hatred. She put a bobble hat on and she’s so cute he can barely keep his hands to himself. So he doesn’t, he squeezes one of the pompoms on her hat. She scowls at him. 

“Let’s go.” He says and he pulls her into his arms again. 

“Wait -” she starts and he’s terrified because she’s about to call him out on him kissing her for sure. Like, once maybe he was honestly only trying to hide them, which worked - but going in for another? Positively foolish. 

“What’s up?” He says she's still far too close to him for him to be able to breathe properly - which is awful because he can’t focus, but also it means she isn’t disgusted enough to throw herself to the other side of the alley. Actually, if he thought about it he could probably feel her pressing herself against him. If he thought about it. 

“We shouldn’t swing right now, right? Like if everyone is looking to the skies for us it might be better to stay on the ground?”

“Yes, good idea.” He says, moving away from her slightly so his brain will restart. He needs to ask, he just needs to ask her. 

“I need you to tell me something.” He starts quietly. 

“Okay?”

“What is it that you have on SHIELD?” If he wasn’t so nervous he would think that obviously, she wouldn’t want to answer that question. That obviously that makes it seem like he is just pursuing her for information. That obviously fear would flash in her eyes that she’d try to hide and he would barely be able to remain standing at the thought that he’s scaring her. 

“Fuck.” She breathes out. “I knew this was - like a fucking trick or something, I knew I shouldn’t have gone with you.” She says running her hand over her hat. 

“Em. Michelle. Please I -” he pleads, “that was a stupid question.”

“That’s what you were sent for, right?” 

“No, I swear it was just routine.”

“Routine.” She huffs out. And something akin to frustration flashes in his mind. He’s risking everything for her and she won’t give him anything - he doesn’t mean to vocalise this frustration but apparently, he can’t keep anything from her anymore.

“Nothing?” She breathes. “Nothing? I’m giving you my fucking life, Peter. I’m trusting you with my life - sorry if that’s not enough.”

“Michelle.” 

“God - just leave me alone.” She says and he can see the sadness etched all over her face. She goes to walk away but he can’t leave her. He can’t lose her. So he sends some webbing to her wrist and gently, always gently, pins her against the wall. He covers her mouth while she tries to scream at him and he can feel his heartbreaking at what he's doing to her. 

“Please,  _ please. _ ” He begs, eyes frantically moving across her face in a desperate attempt to find anything that isn’t fear and hatred. 

_ “ _ I’m not after you, Em. God, I’m trying to protect you.” He whispers and he can see how it looks. That he has his body against hers and his hand over her mouth, so he can see that she wouldn’t necessarily believe him and he has to do something. Her hands keep coming to hit him against his rib cage but they don’t hurt - he’s not sure she could hurt him. Even if she could he’s not sure he could deal with pinning her hands down. 

“My Aunt -” he starts frantically when she starts to look too terrified for him to be able to deal with. “She’s - she’s the last person I have in the world. She’s it. My parents died. My uncle died. My - Gwen died. She’s it, Michelle.” He continues when she stops hitting him and he can take a deep breath. 

“That’s the only place I can think of in the whole fucking world to take you. To make you safe.” She stops fighting against him and he resists resting his forehead against hers. He takes his hand off her mouth slowly, “but I am putting everything on the line for you - and I will. I  _ will _ . I just - God, I’m just trusting you here.” Her eyes show a kindness he’s only seen from her once, and he hasn't deserved it either time. 

“And I know how fucking hypocritical it is of me to say that. As if you’re not trustworthy - as if I have done anything to suggest I am.” He goes to move away from her but she keeps him close when her hands tug at his jumper.

“Why are you even helping me? Why don’t you just -”

“Let them kill you?” He says, a little hurt that she’d think he could do that. He knows how it seems. He works for an organisation that kills people - but it’s not like that. 

“I -” she tries. 

“I trust you, Michelle. And maybe I shouldn’t. I know how this must look to you but  _ please _ , please just give me something so I know risking going to May’s isn’t going to kill her. Please.”

She looks at him for a while and he’s petrified because what if she just doesn’t tell him anything? What if she calls his bluff? He’s never going to leave her here. He tries to ascertain why that is - why he has such a burning need to protect her. He doesn’t know her - she could be a horrible person. She could kick kittens and steal from the bodega. 

And as he looks at her pulling her lip between her teeth, with her eyes looking anywhere but at him, he realises that she could be any number of things and it still wouldn’t mean she deserves to die. 

Doesn’t mean he can explain why he can hardly breathe when she looks directly at him. Why it feels like she can look at him and see everything he’s ever done wrong. Why it makes him want to tell her every thought he’s ever had when her gaze drops to his lips for a fraction of a second. Why he wants to pull her into his arms and never let her go. Why he wants to crack his chest open and let her take whatever she wants. 

“My dad.” She whispers, her hands tightening around his jumper pulling him a fraction closer. “He - erm, he was - he died. And I -” she swallows thickly and his hands move without his permission to move her hair from her face. She moves slightly when he tucks it behind her ear but he’s pretty sure it’s not a flinch. He leaves his hand on the side of her neck, thumb smoothing over her skin as she did for him when she cut his tracker out. He thinks Michelle talking about her dad is more painful than the tracker anyway. 

“He died and -”

“It’s okay,” he says quietly and it’s true. He’ll help her without her having to relive a painful memory. 

“No. It’s not.” She says and he’s very aware of how close they’ve been and he’s surprised he can hear her over the blood flowing in his ears. “You’re trusting me and I need - it’s just hard.” 

It turns out he doesn’t need anything from her apart from the knowledge that she’s trying. That she wants to trust him. That she’s willing to give him something if he pushed, which he won’t - not today. 

“Let’s get on the next bus and you can tell me there, yeah?” He asks, hoping to the high heavens that his gaze does not drop to her lips and ruin this. 

“Okay. Yeah.” She says with a deep breath that moves her body ever closer to his. “Okay. Thank you.” 

“Yeah, of course.” He stutters out when  _ her _ gaze drops to his lips. It’s brief, so brief that if he wasn’t so close they could be sharing a jacket, he might not have seen it. But he’s been trying to track her facial expressions since they got in this alley so he knows. 

She shakes her head and his hands drop from her neck and he backs away slightly, unable to decide if he’s glad they’re out of that weird zone or not. 

“Can we get some food do you think?” She asks, hands still lightly on his jumper and he’d take it off before he made her let go. “I could go to that bodega while you find tickets?” She asks, and it’s a good idea - even if the thought of her going anywhere without him made his heart thump uncomfortably in his chest. And he’s not entirely sure he could say it’s in case she ran away. It might just be because he’d miss her. 

“Yeah. Okay.”

“Wait here?” She asks, uncurling her fists but letting her fingertips hover against his stomach.

“Yes - yeah. Erm, I’ll book the tickets.” 

“And you’ll be here, right? When I get back?” 

“Of course.” He says gently, placing a quick kiss on her forehead that he’ll overthink the entire time that she’s gone. “I’m not leaving.” 

“Okay.” She says, eyes flicking over his like she’s searching for something. She leaves without finding it. 

“Fucking get it together, Parker,” Peter mutters to himself when he sees her enter the bodega. He goes to pull his phone out and then remember Michelle made them break it and leave it on a random rooftop. That’s okay, tickets can be bought at the station. 

Peter watches Michelle walk back towards him with her head down, a large bag full of food and he thinks he can smell something hot.

“I got us tickets.” She says when she returns, “and snacks.” 

“Oh.” He whispers with a smile he can’t control.

“I just - remembered about your phone so I - erm, bought them in the store. It leaves so from down the block so we should go.” She replies and she seems nervous but in a different way than Peter is used to. 

“Okay.” He says, a smile still on his face and picks up her duffle and goes to walk out the alley. 

“This way.” Michelle motions with her thumb when Peter goes to walk in the wrong direction. 

“Sorry.” He replies sheepishly because he knows where the station is. He picked this alley because of its convenience. She looks at him with a small smile and he’d risk anything for her to direct all her smiles at him forever. 

The bus is already there when they turn up, and Michelle puts her hand in his when he can’t stop fidgeting because he’s so nervous they’re going to get caught. 

“Calm down, dork.” She says with a light chuckle and his heart practically stops. At least he stops fidgeting because all of his senses are on the fact that Michelle laughed at him. That she might feel some sort of comfort around him. 

“You want the window or the aisle?” She asks, and he didn’t even notice that they’d got on the bus. But her hand is still in his so maybe that’s why.

“Aisle, please.” He replies and goes to take his jacket off when she drops his hand. He stows their bags under the seat in front of them because no one is sitting there and he doesn’t trust putting them in the overhead bin. 

The first leg of their journey is uneventful. Michelle hands him half a sandwich from the bodega and he internally celebrates that they both like extra pickles and the fact that they both like squashed sandwiches until she apologises that the bread smushed in the bag. He thanks her when she tells him she picked up some toothbrushes because no one needs pickle breath for an eighteen-hour bus journey.

Peter thinks about asking her about her Dad and SHIELD but she pulls a book out of the bodega bag and she looks peaceful for the first time since he met her so he shuts his eyes instead. 

“Wake me up if you need me.” He mutters without opening his eyes. She hums in response. 

He wakes up with a jolt when the bus hits a pothole and figures by the crick in his neck and the feeling of sand behind his eyes that he hasn’t slept for very long. He does notice that his body is covered by an unzipped hoodie and he swallows down any and all emotion he has at the thought of Michelle thinking he might be cold. He chances a look over at her and she’s sleeping at an angle that looks borderline dangerous - so he shifts her ever so slightly.

He manoeuvres her so her back is against the window and he pulls her legs over his - thankful that the bus isn’t full because her feet dangle in the walkway. They’re the closest to the front so he figures it’s probably fine. He goes to move the hoodie she placed over him, over her instead but his movements stir her awake.

“Mmm?” She hums while her eyes slowly blink open. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah -” he breathes out, “sorry, I was trying to make you comfier. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“S’okay,” Michelle replies with a stretch that leaves Peter’s throat dry. Her back arches slightly and he’s quickly reminded that he knows what she looks like under her top and her legs tense and then her limbs seem to lose all strength and flop down and she sinks into the chair. It’s unreasonably cute. 

“Are you comfy?” She asks, eyes closed. "Can lay on me if you want." She mumbles. He’s unsure why she offered but his body moves on her command anyway. She pulls his head to her chest so his torso is lying against her, and she rests her arms around him - humming in content as she slips back into sleep. Her breathing levels out and Peter thinks she’s calm and safe, and that’s all that matters. 

It doesn’t matter than he can’t breathe, that his muscles are locked up at being in this position with anyone. Sure, he’s been close to people - but never like this. Never this close just to be this close. Not for comfort. 

He risks moving slightly and wraps his arms around her waist. She moves the hoodie to cover them both and his heart beats rapidly at the thought that she’s still awake. She can probably feel it trying to thump it’s way out of his body so it can place itself in her hands. Michelle’s fingers move lazily across his back and while he thinks it’s going to distract him, the movements feel so natural that he can feel himself falling back to sleep. 

“Thank you for saving my life.” She says, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. He thinks, of course, of course, he would. He just wraps his arms tighter around her instead.

The rest of the journey is thankfully uneventful and the worst thing to happen is that they both wake up and he’s reminded what it feels like to sit without touching her. She’s not as close or as open with him when she’s not sleepy but it's okay. He doesn't have the energy to ask her anything of substance right now - not when they’re walking down the path towards the safe house he put May in years ago. Not when he’s about to talk to her for the first time in almost a decade. 

“I can wait here,” Michelle says when the front door is in view. 

“Can - can you come with me?” He asks, hand reaching for hers and he hopes she doesn’t ask why. As if he can explain to her that she calms him down by just being there. As if he can tell her that being able to feel her pulse beneath his fingers makes his brain less foggy. 

She takes his hand and knocks on the door for him when he momentarily forgets basic human functions. 

He looks to Michelle when he hears footsteps, she smiles at him and squeezes his hand and then the door creaks open and May is there. Alive, safe, a little greyer than he last saw her. He goes to move, to say anything that would remotely sum up how sorry he is - but she beats him to it. 

“What the fuck?!”

**Author's Note:**

> hey look, jess tries plot - help  
> thoughts, queries, concerns? 
> 
> come say hi on tumblr: i-lovethatforme


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